Yap Mun Ching journeys through Germany 20 years after its reunification and discovers that the wounds of separation have yet to heal completely.

A migrant life   ONE of the lesser known facts about Germany is that it is home today to one of the largest overseas Vietnamese communities in Europe. By some estimates, the total number of people of Vietnamese origin or descent living in Germany by 2005 was 125,000. In the former west, the Vietnamese community comprised mainly refugees from the Vietnam War who started arriving after 1978. In the former German Democratic Republic, however, North Vietnamese students were first invited over to attend training programmes in the 1950s as part of an agreement between the East German and North Vietnamese governments. In the subsequent decades, Vietnamese citizens were admitted to East Germany on industrial trainee schemes, both to increase labour supply and as development assistance between socialist states. Although many of these workers were expected to return home upon expiry of their contracts, many remained and were subsequently naturalised as citizens. As a result of the different immigration policies of the pre-reunification German governments, stark differences characterise the communities on both sides of the divide. Refugee settlers in the west tended to assimilate better as they arrived in Germany with the view of making the country their new home. Most were provided with resettlement aid and support. In the east, however, postings were always viewed as temporary assignments with the eventual aim of returning to Vietnam. As a result, there was far less integration and migrant communities in socialist GDR remained largely separated from the main population. Post-reunification, German efforts to encourage the departure of the guest workers were less than completely successful leaving thousands trapped in unknown citizenship status. As I travelled across towns and cities in the East, it was evident that large numbers of guest workers remained. However, instead of industrial work, many now operate restaurants or mini markets. Like small Asian communities across Europe, most keep to themselves, speaking sufficient German to run their businesses but not enough to truly belong. While life is easier in bigger cities, those in smaller towns hit by high unemployment tend to suffer from discrimination and racial prejudice. In troubled times, Vietnamese establishments often bear the brunt of the rage of extremist groups. The isolation of these Vietnamese settlers is all the more palpable in quiet towns which are already deprived of local inhabitants who have little choice but to seek a living in other cities. Like the Germans, the Vietnamese are yet another example of a people whose fates were decisively shaped by the turbulent events of the 20th century.

WORLD Peace. Freedom. Brotherhood. If there was a moment when the world felt united by belief in these ideals, it was when pictures of the Berlin Wall being torn down were beamed around the world. The German people, who for fifty years were separated into east and west, capitalist and socialist were able to meet once again. Twenty years later, as Germany celebrates the anniversary, I find it appropriate to assess how the pursuit of these ideals has panned out. In 1989, the German example held so much hope as a model reunification for other ideologically-divided countries. Can we still say the same today?

My journey in Germany began in Berlin. Reunification has restored Berlin’s primacy as Germany’s administrative capital. Today, it is also one of Europe’s hippest cities and a popular city-break destination for well-heeled young Europeans. Tens of thousands of tourists arrive each year to snap pictures of colourful remnants of the Wall. In between, they visit Berlin’s museums which hold their own reputations for having fine collections even in an art saturated continent.

But under this glitzy façade, it is not easy to erase the scars of a country that underwent glory, war, destruction, division and rehabilitation all in the short span of a century. Unlike European capitals such as Rome, Paris or London, where the bloodiness of empire-building has long been forgotten leaving only associations of former imperial glory and grandeur, it is not so easy to overlook Berlin’s traumatic past. The fine renaissance and rococo structures that once formed the skyline of this city are now mostly replaced by hasty concrete post-war constructions. As one moves outwards from environs of the beautifully restored Reichstag and the Brandenburg gates, the city’s architectural face lacks continuity. Rather, it appears to leap from a grand renaissance past to a grey and concrete middle age before settling down to a steel and glass future.

My friend Olaf takes a particular interest in this development. In his 40s now, Olaf is of the generation that grew up half his life under the East German socialist regime and entered adulthood around the time of reunification. He works with the German Architects’ Foundation, a prestigious organisation representing the top firms in the country. Ten years ago, the foundation moved its headquarters to an up-and-coming suburb but Olaf acknowledges that the boom times expected of Berlin have not fully materialised. "This building was expensive but we moved here anyway because we expected this area to grow into a vibrant neighbourhood." Instead, the walk from the S-bahn station to Olaf’s office remains quiet, passing through mostly residential blocks. Next to the building where the posh office sits, a car workshop operates, setting the scene for a ironic contrast between Berlin’s aspiration and its reality.

In a similar way, Germany’s contradiction today is Berlin’s contradiction writ large. In the eyes of outsiders, the Germany they know is one of the black, red and yellow flag. But as I venture deeper into former eastern zones, I discover that the wounds of forty years of separation have yet to heal completely. I visit another friend, Helmut, in his hometown in Thuringia which formed part of the former Eastern bloc. An agrarian state deep in central Germany, Thuringia prides itself on being the heart and soul of German culture. Cities and towns in the area bear the finest examples of Germany’s romantic heritage. Narrow colourful townhouses line the streets topped by steep roofs, often time incorporating large attic windows and other times ending in bulb like shapes that hint at Byzantine influences. In these surroundings, German writers, poets and composers produced their finest works. It was in the Thuringian city of Weimar that Goethe penned one of the greatest epics of all time, the tale of Faust meeting the Devil. And it was also in this region that classical music flowered. Bach spent almost his entire working life in different cities in the region. In this cultural greenhouse, the works of 17th century writers and composers went on to inspire others generations later. Brahms came, as did Chopin, Liszt and countless others.

Yet, the Thuringia of today is a ghost of those glory days. Reunification brought funds to restore many of the crumbling buildings but not the livelihood needed to bring life back to its towns and cities. As Helmut takes me around his beloved home state, his story is interspersed with troubling footnotes. "The wall came down when I was 14. Yes, we were happy but in a short time, many people lost their jobs," he says. The reality of German reunification is a far starker and unsentimental affair. Factories which once employed tens of thousands to produce goods for the west were shut overnight. West German industrial giants swooped in, bought over their eastern rivals and in many cases, fired workers and broke up the factories for parts and scrap metal. The Thuringian horizon is a romantic one of forested hills dotted by forts and castles but the flip side of this is that unemployment has become almost a permanent blight in these once thriving regions. Another consequence of Germany’s hasty reunification is the creation of a commuter society among "Ossies" (former east Germans) who now work in the "West". Each week, these commuters travel to western cities such as Frankfurt and Munich where they work a full week before returning to their hometowns in the "East" for the weekend. It sounds like small deal until one is informed that the reason they commute is either because they are unable to afford having their family relocate with them or they are unable to comfortably assimilate with the "Wessies" (former west Germans).

The positive note to this story is that as the shock of sudden reunification subsides, Germany’s former easterners have begun to fight back for their stake in the future. Bright sparks emerge in the form of cities such as Leipzig and Dresden where the young are once again able to live, work and be proud of their origins. Politically, the clearest sign yet that Germany is moving on is the re-election of Chancellor Angela Merkel, a former easterner. On the larger scheme of things, reunification has been successful not least because it has taken place peacefully but also for the dividends of civil liberties that were once denied. The German story, however, is not finished. Answers must be found to unemployment, inequality and disillusionment if the German experience is to inspire others.